Books and Covers
by xoxoSILxoxo
Summary: '"You lied." It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact.' One-shot, Quick, St. Berry, and a bit of Finchel too. R&R!


** I actually wrote this long before my current story, Overrated, back in my angsty time period. So I thought I'd just shove this little one shot in here before I leave for my big vacation.**

** This is my much failed attempt at Quick, but of course, I just couldn't keep my Rachel away from this story. Most of this is St. Berry, and I was gonna put it on its own, but hate posted uber-short stories, so I added a little bit else in an attempt to make it longer.**

** Anyway, enjoy!**

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**Jesse St. James**

"You lied."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact.

It was not at all like Jesse St. James to forget his lines, acting being his god-given talent. He had prepared for this. He had choreographed his simple gestures, his words, so it would all run smoothly. He had practiced his facial expressions in the mirror so they screamed sincerity.

He just hadn't prepared for the pain on his features to be real.

He had known the plan, he had known that the day would come when he would have to finally disappoint her and break her heart. Falling for her wasn't part of the plan. Of course, he wasn't _in love _with her, but he did love her. Almost in the kind of way you love yourself.

He thinks maybe that's the problem, she's a part of him, or he's a part of her. Either way, they're each other. Only Jesse can never imagine being naïve enough to believe the enemy, to fall for a plot as devious as this. And it was truly painful, to watch her stumble, and put so much faith in him. She wore her heart on her sleeve and it bothered him. It was like an itch he couldn't scratch. He wanted so badly to tell her to protect herself, to collect her heart and hide it from harm. But there it was, held out just for him, as if waiting for the inevitable slaughter.

In way, he thinks, dreams are a curse. They drive you into a total desperation that you can barely see. It's buried deep within, controlling you, directing you toward your own meaning of life, doing whatever you need to get that final happiness. In fact, it's so direct; you don't even notice all the happiness you're passing.

He thinks that Rachel and he could have worked out. He's sure they could have fallen in love, and stayed together forever, becoming New York's Broadway power couple, giving birth to musically outstanding children. He thinks Rachel and he deserve a chance. But he's purposely blowing it anyway.

Because he'd rather go to Broadway alone than not at all.

He swallows silently and puts on the most impassive face he can manage. "Of course I did." _I had to._

She's on the verge of tears. He can tell. She's too proud to show it, but too weak to hold them in. And of course, dramatic as she is, she wills only one tear to fall.

Jesse St. James saw people. But not in a good way. He could take one look into a person's eyes as if they were a passage way to your soul. The wavering of a voice could tell him your fears, the light on you face would show him your dreams. If was a gift that came to him, a skill he could imitate, and then use to his advantage. He could bring a person's will and use it against them, in a wrestling match of emotions. So he used it. To get what he wanted, where he wanted, and how he wanted. It was just that easy.

The problem with actors though, is that they're easily changed. If slipping into another person's skin wasn't hard enough, slipping out is what kills you. And there he was, so easily settled into a mask of love and honesty. Playing Glee golden boy with a perfect girlfriend, perfectly happy. It was just an act.

But then he started realizing the little things. How, instead of perfecting certain songs for competitions only, New Directions did what they wanted. Singing was a hobby, not a chore. Dancing was of wanting, not force. The emotions so plainly written on each of their faces to better the performance were _real_.

And that's dangerous. When a person sings how they feel. They put themselves on the line, ready to be crushed, or adored. And when witnessing it happen right, it's amazing, and when he sees it, he feels like they just might win if they do that. And for a while he tries to do that too, he puts himself out there, for the first time, he throws his script out the window, and lives purely on instinct.

And he's crushed. He's bitter. He's upset. Because that is just what he gets for trying to be better. So he rehabilitates his ego, and comes back and it's all business.

But then here he is, watching her heart break before his eyes and it hurts. Because for a second he can see himself being here, falling down the hole she was trapped in. Where there was love, and lyrics with meaning, and trust and happiness. But that's just the thing. It was a hole. And once you're in, you can never get out.

He wants to save her. He really does.

But he has to save himself first.

* * *

**Noah Puckerman**

"I believed you."

The thing that's so messed up, was that yes, she _had_. He had begged her to believe him, and swore upon his grave that he would never be disloyal.

But shit, he's never done this before. He's never messed anything up because he's never had anything good enough to miss in the first place. He's never disappointed anyone, because no one has ever believed in him enough to be shocked at what a jerk he was. He could basically mess around and do whatever he wanted and no one would care, all they would think is just "Typical Puck."

But there you have it. The first time in his life he's ever let someone down. Because he was douchey enough to have asked for her trust, and make her believe him, and then screw it all up.

He wishes she would yell. He's used to yelling women. He used to them throwing things and hitting him in _really_ bad places. But she's just standing there with a sad look and tears.

He can face anger, but he can't deal with tears.

He looks down for a moment, unable to look her in the eyes. "I-I'm sorry."

He doesn't even remember how it happened. Hell, he can never remember how, because he never plans any of it. It just happens. And as corny as the line is, it's true. He's a man of instinct, a man of actions, just because he's not good with feelings, or words. So he lets himself get carried away, and he just _keeps going_.

And he messes it up. He knows that. He _accepts_ that. He just wishes for one second, he could be that person Quinn thinks he is. He wishes he could be that person, and that she could smile at him like nothing was wrong, like he was actually worth a shit.

Maybe that's why he gets so mad when people call him a dead beat, or a Lima loser. Because Puck messes up, and gets that, but he still hates it. It pisses him off without acknowledgement. Because he hates that they can just see that, and he hates that _they're right_. Because he just cannot let that happen. He can't be like his father.

But he is anyway.

So yes, he wishes he could be different. He wishes he could change. But he never does anything about it. And that anger builds up inside of him, and it all just comes out, thus screwing himself further.

So he can't really help it when he fucks Santana that one time when he promised he wouldn't. And he can't help it when he fucks her again after Quinn finds out and breaks up with him. Because it just hurts. It hurts _everywhere_. And for some reason he just can't escape.

So he does what Noah Puckerman does best, he trudges forward, ignores it, and pretends like it doesn't matter anyway.

* * *

**Finn Hudson**

"You promised."

He had. He had promised her, and he had promised himself. God, he hated himself sometimes. He was so stupid, so cruel. He just kept breaking her heart over and over and it killed him.

Because he wanted her. And he wanted to be strong for her. Because she saw him, she really s_aw_ him, and she was maybe the only female he'd ever known that had really _gotten_ him. She made him feel special, like he was actually worth something. She made he feel like, if he played his cards right, they could be special together. Like if he could just _let go_ of what others thought of him, and how others saw him, of Quinn, of betrayal, of everything bad in the world, it would all be alright.

But he couldn't. He couldn't just let go of it. Every time he heard someone say something about him, it was almost like it was magnified just so he would have to hear it. And whenever people looked at him in the wrong way it felt like he just could not take it. If he became one of those people, trapped in this town forever, he might just die. He couldn't be alone. Not completely. He couldn't forget the world and let himself freefall. No, he knew how much it hurt; he wasn't going to go there again.

He wasn't here. He wish he could be more like her though. He wishes he could go out and be free, completely unperturbed by obstacles, strongly believing that he would make it. She loved herself, and almost everyone else, and trusted them all the same. Finn didn't. Not anymore.

He thought she was perfect. With her perfectly pink, well moisturized lips, and her long beautiful hair. She was smart, and talented, and just amazing. People dreamed of the kind of voice she had. They wished for her confidence, and amazing stage presence. She was going big places.

Finn wasn't. Like he said before, he was not going to let himself be trapped here, but other than that, he didn't really have too many big plans. Which is part of the reason he wishes she'd give up on him.

He wasn't good enough for her.

But she just kept coming back. And he wanted to be with her, and to be perfect, and to be _that guy, _and every time he felt that, it only scared himself more. Because being with her would be so right, but then also so wrong.

It scared him how much she had over him, how much she meant to him. He couldn't face that, all the intensity. He couldn't face disappointing her. He'd rather things end this way then ending badly.

He wishes she could get over him, and go somewhere else, and find someone who wasn't an idiot, who could actually love her instead of wishing her could.

He really thought he was ready. After all, he had spent the better part of a month trying to win her back. He had sung Jesse's Girl, and tried his best to be there. He was with her when she found out the truth about Jesse, and tried to protect her from any more harm. He had opened his arms and begged her to come back.

And she had. So of course it was only fitting that he was the one to mess it up.

"I just, I like you Rachel…but…"

But what? What could he say to make this better? He was an idiot, she knew that. He messes up, she knew that.

He guesses that she was right, that first time the broke up. He was a scared little boy, and she was the only one who ever saw him for who he was. She was the only one who ever excepted him for that.

He just wishes he could do the same.

* * *

Don't judge a book by its cover. Some of the first words you ever hear. When you grow up, all your parents tell you not to cliché, because people are better than that. People have layers.

What they don't tell you is that sometimes, that cliché, that stereotype, that first impression, is dead on right. Sometimes people are exactly what you expected.

And that's the most disappointing thing of all.

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**Read and Review! Maybe check out some of my other stories too?**


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